Resignation
by Prophet of Doom
Summary: Post Entropy: Spike is tired. Tired of the Scoobies' blindness towards him. So, he decides that he's had enough, and leaves. Good for those of you who've ever had the urge to just yell at Spike to leave this damned town.


Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. If I did, there would be no reason to write this story, now would there?  
  
Summary: Post Entropy, Spike is tired. Tired of the Scoobies' blindness regarding him. So, he decides that he's had enough, and leaves. Good for those of you who've ever had the urge to just yell at Spike to leave this damned town, and go somewhere where people can actually see how amazing he really is.  
  
Timeframe: Season 6, just after Entropy, pre Seeing Red.  
  
Authors Note: I made the terrible mistake of watching the second half of season 6 again today. Needless to say, I wasn't happy at the end. After positively refusing to watch Seeing Red, I just wondered why it couldn't have just ended before it. So, I made it end. No bathroom incident, no death of Tara, no wrath of stupid, misinformed Scoobies. Just, the end. It's rather nice, actually. I should try ending things more often.  
  
Now, enjoy...  
He can tell it's close to sunrise. He smells the dewdrops clinging to the grass of the cemetery, hears those damned annoying birds that insist on singing just before light peels over the horizon. Everything seems fresh, clean. He hates that everything.  
  
He should be mad. He should be upset, depressed, remorseful. But he's not. Just resigned. Depression doesn't achieve anything. It's pointless to fell remorse over something that wasn't his fault. If anyone should be remorseful, it should be jolly old Jack Daniels.  
  
He looks around his crypt, the hole in the ground posing as a home for him for the past few years. Realizes with a small amount of dismay that there's nothing here worth taking with. He hasn't acquired anything valuable. If he'd been leaving, there was nothing he would take with him. But he is leaving. So, he guesses there's nothing he'll take with him.  
  
He grabs his duster, and looks around again. Now would be the time he's assaulted with happy memories of the good things that happened during his time here. But he doesn't have any. So he just leaves.  
  
He doesn't have a car. His old DeSoto is Satan knows where by now. Taking his motorcycle would result in a dusty end in about 20 minutes. He briefly contemplates this choice. Shrugs it off. No dusty end yet. Not time yet.  
  
He wonders if he should leave a note, let them know he's gone. Then he remembers that that would imply that he actually cared. Can't have them thinking that. He strolls through the familiar cemetery. Waves at the damned annoying birds. Steers his feet towards the car dealers. He has to fight the instinct to head to Revello Drive. He doesn't belong there anymore. He chuckles, remembering he never did. Doesn't matter now.  
  
He arrives at the car dealer. Looks around, taking in the unbearably shiny cars, gleaming under the painfully bright fluorescent lights. Considers buying a convertible, just to spite Fate. Decides it's one of his better ideas. 10 minutes later, a sleek, dark blue convertible rolls down the street, top down. 4 hours and 16 minutes later, the security guard tells the police he has no idea how a car just disappeared.  
  
He ponders why he chose dark blue. He supposes he's just sick of red and black. That's too much like old times. He doesn't want old times. He sees the sign, cheerily smiling, "Now Leaving Sunnydale. Come Back Soon!" As if. He starts to accelerate, then pauses. Decides to spare the sign. Gives it a little wink and salute as he passes. Then it's gone. He's gone. He won't come back. He doesn't want to. He doesn't need to.  
  
The sun's coming up now. He figures he should probably put the top down. He grins as the last glimpse of the stars is covered by the roof of the car. He feels no remorse. Depression, despair, misery, are all far from him. He just smiles. He's still a creature of the night. But this is a new day.  
  
Authors Note: I was just watching Entropy, and I just can't stand how terrible they all are to Spike. So, I figured, let him leave. Let him leave and not come back, let him start a new life, free of the Scoobies, all by choice. It's not meant to be depressing. It's meant to be liberating. For him, at least. Reviews would be nice, but, as previously mentioned, if you'd rather flame, please refrain. Remember the darts. Don't forget the dodging. -Love, PoD 


End file.
